The third call landed differently than the first two.
Not because Olmo said it with any different weight—he didn't. Same flat delivery, same unhurried pace. But something in the room had shifted over the course of the previous two matches. The students who remained had watched Ken dismantle Plistus through adaptability, had watched Joan dismantle Riven through patience and precision. They had seen what the floor looked like when two people who trained together stopped pulling punches. The air in the room had changed. It carried more information now. More weight.
"Tessa. Nyra."
